


Forged By Your Touch

by virtuemoir29



Category: Scott Moir/Tessa Virtue - Fandom
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-18 00:14:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14841902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtuemoir29/pseuds/virtuemoir29
Summary: My version of what (probably) happened in Scotland, 2015.Or: The Intense Overuse Of Italics





	Forged By Your Touch

**Scotland, 2015**

If she was being honest with herself, Scotland was killing her. 

Seeing Scott with Kaitlyn  _constantly_ was ripping her apart from the inside. Kaitlyn, Kaitlyn, Kaitlyn. Always  _fucking_ Kaitlyn, or Kait, or  _whatever the hell_ her nickname was this week. She liked Kait, she really did, just not when she was always in his immediate vicinity, or putting her hands in the wrong spot when she kissed his cheek, or, really, whenever she was touching him. Maybe she didn't like Kait as much as she thought. Kait. Always. Fucking. Kait. 

Just as Scott was finishing saying goodnight to Kaitlyn (they weren't sharing a room, thank  _God)_ he walked over to her with that stupid yet utterly entrancing smirk of his on his face. Suppressing a grin of her own, she crosses her arms defiantly over her chest, refusing to be cast under his spell. She's kidding herself, though. Who can resist Scott Moir's smile? 

"Hey, kiddo," he says, his voice laced with the taint of uncertainty. He's been more closed off toward her, more conservative. It's giving her post-Sochi vibes, which  _definitely_ isn't helping matters. Scott moves to kiss her cheek, and, with every ounce of her self-control, she moves away. It's one of the hardest things she's ever had to do, restrain Scott Moir from kissing her. 

"Don't." Tessa dictates, her voice as cold as ice. He looks as if she's slapped him in the face. 

"Don't what?" Scott replies, eyebrows furrowing in disdain and confusion. Tessa rolls her eyes at him. He  _knows_ what she's talking about. 

"Don't try and kiss me like everything's alright, Scott, because it isn't. It _isn't. Fucking. Alright."_ she says, every word uttered like poison in her mouth. 

"You know what? Fine, Tessa. I'll leave you alone. Just don't expect anything from me if you change your mind." And he walks away, never looking back. 

It isn't until she's in her room that night that she  _finally_ allows herself to sink to her knees and cry. 

* * *

 The next morning, they give each other the cold shoulder. Scott doesn't even so much as glance at her as he tucks into his breakfast, giving Kaitlyn extra good morning kisses just to piss her off. God, she can hate him sometimes. Kaitlyn seems unconcerned, revelling in Scott's extra attention like an over-energized golden retriever. Or a poodle. 

He doesn't say a word to her as they pass each other on the way out of the hotel doors. When she turns one way and he follows suit, though, it catches her attention. She turns, raising her eyebrows in exasperation. 

"You going on a hike today, Tessa?" Kaitlyn pipes up, sending her into further rage. 

"Why yes, Kaitlyn. It certainly appears that way, doesn't it?" Tessa replies through gritted teeth. 

"Why don't you tag along with us? We're hiking today too!" This preppy tone further reminds Tessa of an annoying poodle or a Pomeranian with too much energy. 

"Yes, Tessa, why don't you?" Scott replies with the fakest of smiles splayed across his face. 

"Why not?" Tessa replies. "It just might be fun," she murmurs sarcastically, under her breath. 

Several hours later, Scott and Tessa are about to murder each other. They've never been like this toward each other, but when you mix Scott's girlfriend with a long hike in the middle of nowhere, things can get a little messy. They've been either arguing or not talking for the entirety of the trail, with Kaitlyn providing the most oblivious suggestions to resolve their conflicts. 

"What are you  _doing?"_ Scott asks when they get back to the hotel. 

"I'm putting lotion on so my skin doesn't dry out from the sun, if you  _must_ know." Tessa replies, exasperated. 

"Well, don't let me get in your way, then." 

And he's gone. 

Later that night, a choked sob releases from her chest, and she hugs her knees forcefully. Her breath is uneven and ragged, refusing to regulate. Raw sobs claw their way out of her, commanding ascendancy over her usual reserved self.  Tessa digs her fingernails into her palms, evoking a long-held emotion that has finally come to the surface.

"Fuck."

* * *

 

They're in a pub when "What's Love Got To Do With It" comes on. She locks eyes with him, across the room, and does something she never does.

She runs.

That evening, while she's curled under a blanket with red rims adorning her eyes, she hears a timid yet commanding knock at the door. Wiping the rogue, lingering tears away, she replies with an almost silent "come in." 

"T?" A voice inquires, soft but full of emotion that's almost palpable. Instantly, her head snaps up at the intense familiarity. 

"Oh, Tessa. Come here, baby," he murmurs, gathering her up in his arms like she's his entire world. She's crying so hard she doesn't notice his term of endearment. 

Almost subconsciously, she realizes her hand is bleeding from a plate she dropped earlier. 

"Fuck," she whispers to herself. 

Silently, he rips a piece of fabric from the bottom of his white t-shirt, wrapping it around her hand with assured gentleness. The fabric quickly staunches the flow of blood, and he takes a good look at her. Her eyes meet his, filling with tears she thought he would never have to see. 

"T, Tessa, Tutu, I'm so sorry," he gets out, voice cracking with tangible emotion. "You deserve the world, and I haven't been giving it to you lately. And that is a debt I'll never be able to repay. Not  _ever."_

Instead of replying, she curls herself closer into him, her hands clenched in his t-shirt. He buries his face in her neck, and they're both sobbing, for all the times they missed, for every regret, for not being there for each other when they needed it most. But mostly for each other, for missing each other. Because  _that,_ being Tessa and Scott, is what drives them forward. 

"I feel like I can't breathe when I'm with you," Scott says into her neck. 

Tessa pulls away to look at him. 

 _"That's_ why you've been avoiding me? Oh, Scott." 

"I love you, Tessa. I'm desperately, hopelessly, stupidly in love with you. That's why I've been ignoring you. Because I wasn't sure if you felt the same way." 

"God, Scott. Of course I love you. I'm in love with you in the way that makes you can't sleep at night, that makes you want to pull your hair out sometimes. I'm in love with you, Scott Moir." 

And before she knows it, she's kissing him. He tastes like sandalwood and mint and something uniquely  _Scott_ that she can't quite pinpoint. She can taste the salt from both of their tears on her tongue. His lips part under hers, his tongue begging for entrance. 

She allows it. 

He breaks away from the kiss, pressing his forehead to hers. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he murmurs. 

"Me too." 

"Now, if you'll excuse me, there's something I have to do." She knows fully well what it is he's talking about. 

* * *

"You  _love_ her? You LOVE her?! I never had a chance, did I?" Kaitlyn practically screams. 

"Kait! Be quiet!" He whispers.

"Of course I do. Of course I love her, Kait." Scott whispers, pinching the skin between his eyebrows with a forefinger. 

"Well, that settles it then. Goodbye, Scott," she says, and walks away without looking back. 

* * *

 

Tessa hears a knock at her door once again, and he walks in. 

"Hey," she whispers. 

"Hey," he replies, lips mere inches from her own. He brushes a chaste kiss to her lips. 

"Stay," she murmurs, her voice uncharacteristically low. 

"Okay," he responds, entangling her in his arms. 

Because that's how it was always meant to be. 

Tessa and Scott. That's what drives them forward. What propels them. 

Like they finally found the fuel to their seemingly dying embers. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comment your hearts out, as always, and leave kudos!


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